Copyright 2019 © N. Isabelle Blanco & Dee Garcia
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, real people, and real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the Author’s imagination and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, organizations or places is entirely coincidental.
All rights are reserved. This book is intended for the reader of this ebook ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the express written permission of the Author. All songs, song titles and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.
Cover Image: © Adobe Stock
Cover Design © Dee Garcia with Black Widow Designs
Editing: © N. Isabelle Blanco with Black Widow Designs
Formatting: © Dee Garcia with Black Widow Designs
Contents
Recap
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Sneak Peek of Coveted
About N. Isabelle
About Dee
In the last installment of the St. Cecilia Series…
Thank you.
What does that even mean?
I’m still glued to the same spot on the bed with Kiera curled into my side trying to discern what the hell those words could possibly mean. I feel compelled to ask her, have the query sitting right on the tip of my tongue, but given the raw, emotional way in which she practically bestowed them upon me, I can’t find it in me to follow through.
Instead, I relish the feel of her small frame clinging to my own, how she fits so perfectly against me. Hand draped possessively over her ass, I lay still as she unbuttons my shirt and draws invisible circles on my chest.
“I meant what I said,” she murmurs suddenly, luminous gray pools boring into the side of my face.
I meet her stare with a curious brow. Aside from that “thank you,” I honestly can’t remember anything she said, as horrible as that sounds. Everything following the moment she opened the door of her home is a giant blur. “Which part?” I play it off.
Kiera bites her lip, cheeks flushing slightly. “How I can’t stop thinking about you.”
My chest squeezes of its own accord and I can’t help but smile. Reaching out, I cup her face, brushing my thumb along the apple of her cheek. “So it’s not just me? ‘Cause fuck, you’re on my mind all day long.”
“You’re just saying that,” she scoffs playfully, yet somewhat wistful as well, her gaze trailing back down to my chest.
My lips settle in a thin line. I don’t like that tone.
She’s drawing those invisible circles again when I finally grip her wrist, halting her movements. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Kiera.”
At the edge in my voice, she drags her eyes back up to mine, those perfectly arched brows of hers furrowing once more. She doesn’t speak for several moments, several moments where this is unexplainable silence hangs thick between us . . . but in a mere blink, she’s on top of me.
The tips of our noses brushing, lips a hair’s breadth away. “See me then. Be with me.”
My body tenses beneath her, mind racing into overdrive within seconds. She can’t possibly mean . . .
“I am with you,” I tell her, raking my hands up the sides of her body.
“No, I mean like be with me, be mine, only mine.”
The whole world screeches to a stop.
Everything, including her.
I’m not a commitment phobe, not in the slightest, but a relationship with Kiera just isn’t feasible. Her family is still locked in tight on the suspects list, for crying out loud. If a single word got out that I was with her right at this very moment, I could kiss my career goodbye.
Not to mention we’ve recently just met.
Maybe that’s what she means? I search her gaze, wondering. Is she asking me for a full commitment of some sort or simply to date? See where this goes.
Something tells me it’s the latter. She wants exclusivity with me while we pursue this.
Whatever this is.
One thing’s for sure: regardless, it’s still a horrid impossibility.
But in the same hand . . . I do want that with her. I want Kiera to be mine.
Sighing, I roll her onto her back and settle in between her legs, dropping my forehead to her own. “We can’t, baby. Not now, not with the investigation still going on.”
“So we can’t even see each other from time to time?” she asks in a low tone.
The confirmation of what I was thinking does nothing to make me feel better.
I want her. More than I’ve ever wanted anything. The idea of having her all to myself lights up every circuit in me. Closing my eyes, I bask in the way she rubs her lips along mine.
How her arms and legs come around me.
“Just promise me a few moments here and there . . . and that I’ll be the only woman you give this to.” Her comment is punctuated by a delicious, wet tap kiss.
Holy shit. She’s making me hard again. Just like that.
I kiss her back, hating this weakness. “And you? You’ll be only mine?” I run my hands up and down her thighs. “You won’t let some other asshole touch you like this?”
Her eyes glow with happiness at my show of possessiveness.
And that’s the moment I realize how well and truly fucked I am.
“Maverick, I haven’t allowed anyone else to touch me since you.”
I scowl. Why is her tone so off? Yet her stare is so earnest. Straight beseeching.
With a groan, I let my forehead fall back to hers. “Let’s take it one day at a time. And no one can know, baby. Not yet.”
“I understand.” She giggles with happiness, a truly mind-scrambling sound, and tugs me back down for another kiss.
I’m definitely going to hell.
I’m probably going to end up losing my job for sure.
I still don’t know her family’s connection to the killings, although it might all turn out to be a heck of a coincidence.
Going to have to worry about that later. The feel of her under me, lips on mine, and the promise of exploring this crazy connection further is the only thing I can think about.
No wonder it’ll all end up where it does.
No fucking wonder.
I was a goner from day-fucking-one.
* * *
Walking through my front door, I inhale a deep breath.
The taste and scent of Kiera is reawakened with the move.
Lies. It’s been haunting me since I dropped her off and we spent nearly fifteen minutes making out in my car as if it was going to be the last time we saw each other.
I felt so empty after she walked inside her place that I couldn’t even head straight here. I drove around Boston for nearly an hour, in a daze of need and confusion.
God. What the fuck am I doing with my life? Ruining it. As always.
Maybe Mom’s right. Maybe it’s a matter of time before this addiction to self-destruction consumes me and I become just like my Da.
My ego screams, I doubt it! Never!
Common sense? Shall we exhibit all the evidence of your bad decision making?
Yet Kiera doesn’t feel like a bad decision. Perhaps it’s all this lust talking, the lingering taste of her pussy fucking with my mind, but she just doesn’t. Only known her for a few weeks, yet I only feel okay when I’m with her.
More lies. I’m not okay with her. I’m on a whole other level. A deranged, delicious level I don’t want to fight.
I just fucking don’t.
Frozen right inside my door, I stare at my empty condo. Saddest part?
Dropping my keys into the key holder, I take out my vibrating, personal phone. Notifications have been going on non-stop. I ignored them while with Kiera.
Staring at the screen, I choke out a curse.
Five text messages from Ruby.
Apparently, her Nathaniel Blackstone fixation didn’t die down after my warnings to her and I simply don’t have the energy to deal with it at this time.
I read through them again.
Ruby: Where are you?
Ruby: Pick up. It’s urgent.
Ruby: Jesus, I know you were mad at me earlier but seriously. PICK UP.
Ruby: Remember that break in at the Conley Terminal? Well, I was passing by and guess who else is here with his group of friend’s again? HINT: YOU HATE HIM.
Ruby: OMG. You’re not taking this seriously. Where the hell are you? We need to talk about what I saw!
Ugh. Not now Ruby. Not fucking now.
I yank on my hair and drop my cell on the side table.
As I turn to head deeper into my condo, my second phone starts going off in my pocket.
My work phone.
So help me God, it better not be her with this shit . . .
I bring it out so fast it nearly goes flying out of my grip. Turning it over, I see my Lieutenant’s name flashing across the screen.
Shit.
I hurry to answer. “Quinn.”
“We just got the call. You need to get to St. Cecilia’s right now. Another victim’s been found at the scene.”
“Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.” - 1 Peter 5:8
Pure and utter chaos best describes the scene at St. Cecilia’s when I arrive; squad cars, CSI, even a crowd now contained behind the yellow tape. The sight of it roils my gut with distaste.
With guilt.
I was just out there balls deep in a piece of this depraved puzzle, and after wasting an hour of my life driving around, I didn’t have time to shower after hanging up with the Cap. So now I have the sweet scent of Kiera’s pussy clinging to my face, invading my senses every time I take a breath, and I have to face my peers in this state.
Fuck my life.
No time to dwell on that, though. I’ve risked enough for one night. Need to keep my head in the game if I have even a shred of hope of keeping this job.
I’m out of my car and across the street in under a minute, slipping past the officers on crowd control with a quick flash of my shield. The way they seem to eye me, it’s like my dirty little secret is stamped across my goddamn forehead.
But I keep on—up the steps, through the threshold.
Only to jerk still, my feet rooted to the floor beneath me as my vision tunnels on the man several feet before me. All around me the world continues milling about, voices and hushed conversations echoing through the church, but all I can focus on is the man.
It’s not the victim I’m fixated on.
It’s the priest.
Kneeled before the altar in agony, he rocks back and forth, praying to our Lord with every ounce of his being. For what, I don’t know, but he’s deep in prayer. I can’t see his face, yet I don’t need to. The sheer amount of horror emanating from his person is utterly palpable. Billowing through the air in ominous waves, it circles around me like a cloud of demons and lances right through my being, ricocheting that familiar arctic shiver down my spine.
One step, then another. I’m finally moving, stalking down the aisle with determined steps. It’s only then that I realize the body wasn’t dumped at the altar this time. She left him right in the middle of the church aisle for all the world to see.
“Mav!” Ruby’s voice meets my ears. She rushes up to me and blocks my way, amber eyes wide. “You were right! The killer. The priest saw her!”
He saw her.
What in the actual fuck?
I cut my eyes behind her for a split-second to where he remains kneeling before boring into her. “Has he been questioned?”
Ruby shakes her golden head. “Very briefly. He was in a state of shock when I got here.”
Looks like he still is.
“We need to speak with him,” a voice I know too well says.
Nathaniel.
The very bastard the woman before me was texting me about while I was fucking Kiera into the next dimension.
“Shall we then?” I ask, all but dragging her down the remainder of the aisle with a firm hand at her arm.
If anyone is questioning that priest, it’s me.
I’m in such a rush, Ruby struggling to keep pace, that Nathaniel is left trailing us by more than six feet. A fact Ruby takes advantage of. Just as we’re close to the altar and the praying priest, she mumbles, “Why were you ignoring my texts earlier?”
Dear Lord. Doesn’t she see now isn’t the time for this? “I was sleeping,” is all I give her, pausing less than a foot from the priest.
He’s stopped rocking back and forth, but his back is curled, head bent, his body shivering as he struggles with whatever he saw.
Not “whatever.” He saw her, which means I know exactly what he witnessed, how that would look to a man of devout faith. The shock it would deliver.
A normal man of actual faith, yes. You, on the other hand? How did you react to her? Hm?
Pushing another round of bitter guilt to the back of my mind, I clear my throat softly. “Father . . . forgive the intrusion, but we really need to go over what you saw.”
At first, it seems as if he didn’t hear me. Then, his back rises and falls with a deep sigh as he straightens. It takes him another few seconds to make the sign of the cross and turn to face us.
The Lieutenant, Blackstone, and Lee congregate around us.
The priest, a man that must be at least in his sixties, sits on the step of the altar. He’s struggling to focus on us. This time, the lights in the church are all blazing and I can see his pupils shrink with dread within his light blue irises.
By silent agreement of the group, I take charge, and I have a feeling it has to do with the fact that I’m known as the most Catholic of us all.
However untrue that might be recently.
“Father? . . .” I trail off, eyebrows raised.
“Wilson,” he replies in a reedy voice.
I bring out my notepad and pen. “I’m sure this has been an extremely difficult night for you, Father—”
“I think I’ve seen the devil reincarnated in female form,” he whispers, more to himself than anyone else.
That goddamned shiver rips through my spine again.
My mind flashes with remembered images of what he saw. Of what I did with it.
Not it. Her.
Clearing my throat once more, I step closer. “Can you please give me a rundown of what occurred here? What you saw? It’ll help us get one step closer to catching this killer.” The same killer that holds so many of my secrets.
The key to my downfall.
Yet, I can’t stop hunting her. Need to bring her down. Even if it means I’m going down with her.
The priest runs a hand across his forehead. “I’m usually not here at this time, but I got caught up preparing my sermon for tomorrow. When I noted the time, I gathered my belongings to take my leave, was coming up the stairs”—he motions over his shoulder toward the back of the altar—“and that’s when I heard the dragging sound. I mean, I didn’t know it was something being dragged until later, of course.”
I nod at him, scribbling into my notepad at top
speed. Heart pounding as I imagine everything that happened through his eyes.
“So I came up and that’s when I saw her. A black devil in the flesh.”
Before he can expound on that, I hurry on. “What was this woman doing?”
“She was dragging that dead man across the floor, using all her might. She seemed tall, but in a deformed way. Like it was false height.”
Those sexy as fuck heels.
Fuck. Stop thinking like that in a church!
Stop cursing in here, too!
“Do you mean she might’ve been wearing heels, perhaps?” Ruby chimes in.
God damn it.
The priest nods, dazed. “Perhaps. It was quick. What mostly attracted my attention was the way the light glowed off all that black. And the fact I could tell that man was dead. The—the blood was reflecting that light as well.”
He’s talking about the blood trail beneath the victim.
“And what happened next?” I ask, heart pounding with dread. Why? Because with each new detail he hands out, everyone here is one step closer to gaining a full picture of my secret.
“I couldn’t help it. I began praying. I could not make sense of the fact that someone was dragging a dead man in here yet again, nor that it was that . . . that thing . . .” he trails off, eyes on the body in the middle of the aisle, seeming in the verge of prayer again.
“Is that when she heard you?” I need an award once this is over. Or a one-way trip to hell for being able to hide my mounting anxiety so well.
The priest forces his gaze back to mine. “Yes. She jerked to a stop, turned my way, and then . . . then . . .”
“Then what, father?”
“She smiled at me. Happily smiled at me!”
I almost drop my pen and notepad, my mind flashing immediately to that smile.
That familiar, gleeful smile with its beauty mark gracing the lower corner.
Depraved: St. Cecilia Slayings Book Three Page 1
